


"Where Do You Get Off??" -- In the Server Room, Apparently

by grapehyasynth



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Deleted Scene, F/M, Jemma Simmons Has No Chill, Smut, can we just pretend this is what actually happened?, i don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:51:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6834100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapehyasynth/pseuds/grapehyasynth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma is finding it very hard to concentrate as she works with Fitz in the server room and Agent May's timing is significantly better (or worse?) this time... missing/fixed scene from 3x20.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Where Do You Get Off??" -- In the Server Room, Apparently

Fitz huffed in annoyance as Jemma once again handed him the wrong component in their persistent attempts to counter Daisy’s hacking of the S.H.I.E.L.D. server. 

“The other one, Simmons -- no, that one -- _that_ one--” 

“Sorry!” she fretted, clattering through the drawer and selecting the right piece at last. 

Fitz slotted it in and sighed. “That should hold her for an hour. Or a minute.” 

Jemma let out a breath and slumped back against the opposite bank of servers. 

“Are you alright, Simmons?” 

“I’m fine, Fitz.” But she rubbed at her forehead in a familiar tic and he moved towards her, gently wrapping a hand around each forearm. 

“You don’t need to be superwoman with me, Jemma.” 

She slipped out of his grasp and past him. “It’s not -- it’s just--” She colored as he continued to look at her and finally relented, “It’s just embarrassing. What with everything going on, this is hardly the time to be --” 

He stepped forward again and she backed away, holding a hand up. 

“Fitz, please don’t come any closer. It’s -- I’m feeling rather... _frustrated_." 

Fitz stopped, mouth slightly open. “Oh.” 

“Maybe I should go work somewhere else, help Mack or someone,” Jemma said in a rush, flinching. “Oh, it’s so stupid, I’m not some adolescent, I hardly thought this would be a problem--” 

“New relationship and all that, I can understand why you’d be, erm, _horny_ \--” 

“Ugh, Fitz!” Jemma spun away from him and hurried into the next aisle of computer towers, unable to look at him any longer. She knew there was no reason to be embarrassed of her libido -- she was rather proud, honestly -- but in the scope of the other issues facing them, true life-or-death scenarios, being distracted by her own constant state of semi-arousal made her feel like a poor agent and friend. 

She busied herself with double-checking some of the sensors, not that she understood them nearly as well as Fitz. She heard him round the corner and stop, but she didn’t look up. 

“I can help with that,” he said finally, quietly. 

“Everything appears to be in order,” she replied, gesturing to the consistent patterns of flashing lights. 

“No. Let me help with _that_.” In the moment she took to try to interpret his tone, he’d crossed the space between them and stood just behind her. “Let me get you off.” 

She froze, her hands still on the panel, suddenly breathless. His voice was still slightly shaky, as it so often was when they discussed more intimate topics, and she’d have time to tease him later, but for now... She’d never really enjoyed it when former boyfriends were dominant, but with Fitz, his commands were always tinged with hesitation, his actions laced with questions, and she had been finding, in their new explorations, that it was a tension and contradiction she quite enjoyed. 

“You don’t mean--” 

His right hand was suddenly at the top of her trousers, then inside, the tightness of her jeans pressing his fingers hard against her skin. She inhaled at the sensation and her body’s immediate response. 

“Fitz! We can’t do that _here_ \-- what happened to properly compartmentalizing our personal lives and work?!” 

“If we don’t, you’ll only continue to be distracted, which is obviously compromising your work. Besides, it’ll only take a minute.” 

“You’re awfully confident.”

“I haven’t failed you yet. And am I mistaken or didn’t you recently compliment my ‘improved dexterity’?” He wiggled his trapped fingers so that they brushed the top of her knickers. 

“That was a _professional assessment_ in a _professional setting_ \--”

“If you don’t want me to do it--” He started to pull his hand out. 

“No!” she said too quickly, grabbing his wrist to stop him. 

“No, you don’t want it, or no, you do?” 

She rolled her eyes -- she couldn’t help it. He was making her ask for it, and he sounded infuriatingly smug, but _god_ if it wasn’t hot. 

“ _Yes,_ Fitz, I want it, alright? Now would you just stop fucking aro--”

She never finished her sentence as his fingers darted against her entrance and she gasped. 

“Right to it then,” she choked out. 

“You’re already wet,” he whispered against her ear. She whimpered shamelessly.

His thumb stroked upward and her legs nearly buckled. He pressed his palm backward to support her slightly, then slid his left hand down her arm and brought her hand up to rest against the server bank so that she could hold herself up slightly. Then he brought his own arm across her upper chest, pulling her to him. 

“You can let go now, I’ve got you,” he said softly, then began stroking a rhythm along her sensitive lips, just inside but not far enough. She closed her eyes, her head lolling back against his shoulder as he held her up. Her hips began to roll against his hand.

“Fitz, please,” she gasped. 

He slid one finger up inside her and she shuddered, causing him to still his motions in concern, but she thrust against him and begged for him to continue. As he returned to the rhythm he’d recently established, he let the hand resting across her shoulders slide down inside her shirt and bra and settle over her breast. He gave it one squeeze just as he added a second finger to his actions below. 

She whined, knowing that he was avoiding her clit to make it take longer. “This is no time for games, Fitz,” she tried to snap, but her voice was shaky with desire and it ended up sounding needy more than anything. He was right that he was damn good at this -- as insecure as he was in most realms of their physical relationship, he was marvelously quick at picking up what worked for her, and he knew just what to do to bring her to the edge. That he could do it without looking, just by feeling and responding to her reactions, was both impressive and wildly arousing. Judging by the pressure against her arse, he wasn’t having such a bad time himself, though there’d be time for him later. 

At last he began to stroke her where she wanted him, just offset with his thrusts so that she was always slightly surprised when he touched her. Her chest heaved against his warm hand and her eyelids fluttered -- she was so, so close--

“Fitzsimmons?” Agent May’s voice called from the doorway at the other end of the room. 

Fitz somehow covered Jemma’s mouth in time to stifle her surprised yelp and retracted his other hand quickly from her trousers. She moaned against his palm in involuntary protest. 

“Fuck,” he panted, releasing her carefully, making sure she could stand. They both straightened their clothes and moved apart, trying to assume casual positions as if they’d just been discussing something work-related. Fitz leaned his right hand against the servers, but it slid slightly, still wet from being inside her, and left a streak behind. 

“Oh no,” Jemma whispered, grabbing his arm and rubbing his sleeve against it. 

“Everything alright here?” 

They both spun to face May, Fitz plunging the offending hand into his pocket and trying not to think about how close Jemma’s wetness was to his own hard cock. 

“Yes!” Jemma chirped too loudly, and Fitz noticed how flushed she was, how dilated her pupils were. “Just -- maintaining our vigil, trying to stop Daisy anywhere she might penetrate--” 

Fitz choked and started to cough violently into his elbow. 

“The dust,” Jemma explained, smacking him much too hard on the back. “This room should really be better ventilated--” 

May looked between them, eyes narrowed. “Be sure to mention that to Mack. Coulson needs you both up top, General Talbot’s here and wants a rundown of the research you’ve done on Hive.” 

“We’ll just make sure everything here is secure and then come meet you,” Fitz said, eyes still watering. 

May’s lips quirked up slightly, Jemma would have sworn, but she just nodded and turned away. 

“Remind me to kill you later,” Jemma said through gritted teeth as May left. “I’m even more wound up than I was before.” 

“I’d be more than happy to help you finish after dinner,” Fitz replied cheekily. “Your bunk or mine?” 

She glowered furiously at him but as she led him out of the room he heard her mutter, “Mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> lol
> 
> Lil tidbits of this came filtering to me today and I was walking across campus basically plotting out PWP and trying to look like a normal college student. 
> 
> I'm very new to smut and take my cues from the other excellent writers in the fandom so hopefully this was okay! 
> 
> Love feedback -- comments literally make my life brighter. 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr! I'm grapehyasynth over there as well.


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